Through The Murky Waters: Talk To Me
by keenbeanz
Summary: He can still hear the screams as the people he had been imprisoned with for two weeks had been killed for nothing but entertainment to those who had taken him from his homeland and destroyed his life and family. Percy/Nike Dark! AU


**So not entirely sure who asked for a Percy/Nike one shot, but here it is hope you enjoy.**

**This is set in Ancient Rome, No Percy doesn't know he is a demigod, no he has never met his father, no he doesn't understand the Latin language, he is about 17 in this and is working as a fisherman, he was captured by Roman forces and sent back to Rome as a slave and is now fighting as a gladiator/slave. Jason in this story does know Greek, because he is an Emperor and would need to know how for political reasons. **

**I in no way own PJatO or HoO**

The beast collapses to the ground in a loud crash, which shakes the ground in a way that screams trouble; however this large beast does not cause any more trouble as the blood that had once coursed through its veins, slithers out the large cuts and gashes that caress its body. It's mouth open wide, with large teeth that had easily torn the other men and slaves to pieces right in front of his eyes.

He can still hear the screams as the people he had been imprisoned with for two weeks had been killed for nothing but entertainment to those who had taken him from his homeland and destroyed his life and family.

He frowns and looks up towards the covered area with a grim look, which can either be sadness or anger. The Emperor sits upon his throne, his blonde hair short and partially covered by the shadows, saving his skin from the blistering heat that burns his own sun kissed skin. Marking him, a slave.

His thumbs raises and the shouts and cries of the crowd grow louder in joy and excitement. He drops his head to the floor and stares at his bare feet, blood, dirt and blisters cover them.

He is dragged away by the guards, back into the darkness of the arena walls, beside him he sees more men and women standing against the walls shivering in fear. The roar of the crowd doesn't drown out their screams as they are lead towards the arena.

* * *

He is back in his cell, he receives no visitors, no one else stays in the same cell, and his only visitor is the heavily armoured guard who brings him a cup of water and half a loaf of bread every day.

His only comfort is of his family as well as the oceans in which he was slowly learning how to navigate, he had found it to be an easy trade and had often showed great worship and favoured the God Poseidon, no matter how hard many of the locals had told him to worship others.

His mother had encouraged the worship, and told him not to listen to those who question him, so he had. Poseidon had however not given him his favour when the Romans came.

He forces his eyes shut and imagines the feel of the ocean spray upon his face as the winds whip around his small fishing boat, the way the ship would dip and toss about as the travelled over the waves and towards the calmer oceans, where the fish would wait.

His cell door opens and the guard comes towards him grabbing his arms and pulling him to his feet. He says something that Percy doesn't understand, before pushing him out the cell door.

He knows it is time for the arena again.

* * *

There is another boy in his cell; he is much younger, and paler than his own skin. He thinks he must have been one of those well off children, someone who has never had a day of work in the sun in his life. He has never met someone who must have been so well off in a place like this before.

"Greek?" he asks in a language he understands. It has been far too long since he has heard his mother tongue.

"Yes." He answers back with a smile. He can tell the other boy is happy as well from the way his dark brown eyes shine and the childish smile that spreads easily across his face.

"Nico." The boy says, allowing his legs to spread out into a more comfortable position.

"Perseus." The man replies nodding his head. Nico raises a brow before looking at the door.

The sound of keys and screams spread throughout the dimly lit chambers.

* * *

"What are you doing?" Perseus asks, the younger boy, Nico, he has his eyes shut and facing the far wall where a tiny window shines the last rays of a dimming sun. He is mumbling something under his breath, his head bowed.

The boy doesn't answer for a moment, so he asks again, a little louder, in case the boy has not heard him.

"Praying." He replies, his head never lifting, his eyes remaining shut.

"To who?" Perseus asks he steps forward his eyes never leaving the bowed head of the Greek in front of him.

"To Nike." He says again, slowly opening his eyes and looking up towards the older man, there is a shine in his eyes that Perseus can't identify.

Perseus scoffs loudly and leans against the wall with a frown, looking back at the cell door, away from the hopeful and foolish boy. "The gods aren't real."

Nico doesn't say anything, in fact he doesn't say anything until the cell door opens the next day and they are once again dragged out towards the arena.

* * *

He is dreaming when he sees her, and at first he doesn't recognise her nor know who she is. Her dark hair and dark eyes look familiar, so familiar that it burns his eyes to look at her and to be simply unable to recognise just who she is. It frustrating and he calls out in annoyance, only he doesn't cry out. She simply looks at him in a way that makes his muscles ache and yearn to be used.

Then she unfolds her wings, they are white, so white he has to shield his eyes as the lights rays bounce back off the alabaster feathers and head towards his face.

That's when he realises who she is.

"Nike." He whispers in awe, dropping to his knees in a huddled heap. Offering her his worship. Something that had only been reserved for the sea god that had held his respect for so long.

She doesn't say anything. Merely looks at him with that look that makes him want to impress her, to take on all of those mythical creatures all the heroes his mother used to tell him about as a baby.

She is beautiful. With the looks of the goddess Aphrodite.

She disappears then right in front of his eyes in a blinding light that he fears would kill him if he were awake and she was with him.

He awakes with a startled yelp by the guards.

* * *

He has become popular among the masses, due to his victories, as well as on occasion some of his loses. It's the emperor who tells him this in a 'private' meeting, and by private he means, the emperor, his guards as well as himself in the tiny cell.

The emperor himself is young, but that doesn't mean he isn't qualified for the job. Perseus has heard of Jason, like himself named after a hero from his own culture. And similar to many heroes the Emperor claims to be the son of a god, and not just any god, but Jupiter king of the gods.

One of the guards hits him when he laughs at the Emperor.

But Jason seems nice, nice enough to offer Perseus to become a Freed Roman citizen.

He declines, much to everyone's surprise, he does it with a smile that has Jason frown and shrug his broad shoulders.

The Emperor comes back after every battle in the arena, offering him his freedom again. Each time Perseus says no, until they stop asking him and ask his cell mate Nico instead, who accepts after the first offer.

Perseus doesn't mind and offers his friend a sad farewell, for he now knows why he is here.

* * *

She visits him often in his dreams, never saying anything only watching him and giving him that look as he goes about his duties with in his dream, each time she stands out amongst the massacres, the fishing as well as the much more intimate dreams of his family and friends back in Greece.

Slowly he becomes readily accepting of her and often calls her his patron.

He prays to her every day and night, she never answers him simply watches him as he dreams with that look.

He talks to her often, or rather at her. She does nothing which could indicate that she can hear him making him often wonder if she is real or if it is his mind playing cruel tricks on him, payback for no longer worshipping Poseidon.

"Do you believe in love?" he asks one day.

She doesn't answer, not that he is really surprised. But he had hoped that she would say something, perhaps even smile.

She simply stares, her eyes pulling him deep into the ocean that he misses, it isn't long before he is lost in those dark eyes, and he is drowning in the pools of black growing more and more lost.

He wakes up feeling alone, yet no longer lonely.

* * *

There is a gash across his right eye, and he can hear the screams and shouts of the people he has been placed in the ring with. They are not prepared having never undergone any military training nor any experience in the arena.

Many have never even seen a weapon, nor had any glimpse of another person in days, only to be thrown into their slaughter with little hope of survival.

But he will survive.

He will win.

The is a blinding light to his left that has him blink rapidly as his pupils dilate to reaccommodate the unusual light that no one else seems to notice nor see. He turns quickly kicking the sandals of a man who is no longer living, a spear sticks out of his side, pools of blood surround him, he ignore the smell and sight before him, in favour of the far more attractive sight.

There she is, in the midst of battle her wings spread far and wide, a glow about her that could put the sun to shame, a laurel wreath adorned upon her dark curls, and that same look that he has become accustomed to on her face.

No one else can see her, he can tell because if they could see the beauty of the goddess in front of them they would no doubt be weakened to the knees just as he is.

But that look keeps him standing, has his muscles once again ache and yearn to be used, and has his once sweaty and clumsy hand from exhaustion grow stronger and steadier.

He charges towards the masses of muscled and strong looking gladiators in front of him, constantly looking over his shoulder, just to check if she is still in fact there. And she is. She stays until the last man, never smiling or moving.

Simply watching him with that gaze.

* * *

He grows to depend on her presence after a while, grows to wait for her to show in the arena before he starts to fight. Just to see if she still cares about him. To see if she will leave and allow him to die.

But she doesn't.

Her visits are like his lifelines, the things that keep him sane amongst the bloodshed and the misery.

Then one day he has had enough of her silence, and wishes to hear her voice, he doesn't know what she sounds like, after years of depending and waiting for her to show and talk, all he wants is her voice.

He wants her to talk to him, to smile, to move.

But she doesn't.

He screams out loud, so loud that even in his dream his voice grows hoarse, he shakes the goddess attempting to move her, to see if she will shake like a human would.

She does move.

But she doesn't say anything.

Why won't she say anything?

He collapses then on his hands and knees. The beautiful ocean is rough against the hull of the boat, and he rocks over and over as he sobs loudly in his dream.

She is still standing there watching him when he begins to wake.

* * *

He is losing.

And he doesn't care.

Because she isn't here.

She isn't standing on the bloodstained dirt, in the arena that has seen already so many people die.

He isn't alone. But he is lonely.

The sword that pierces his tanned flesh feels like a pin prick against his skin. Even as it cuts through the muscle and tendons, he doesn't scream.

His voice is still sore from the shouts in his dreams to the deaf goddess, who he no longer prays too.

The audience around him is quiet for a moment, before the shouts start up again, praising the new soon-to-be victor as he destroys the once crowd favourite.

Tears prickle his skin, something he had thought impossible after days of silently weeping in his cell. Blood ebbs down his body like droplets of water dripping down the edge of a broken water vessel.

The boy who is quickly and nervously running him through with his sword, looks on the verge of panic as he no doubt takes his first life, in what will come to be many, if he is lucky, or should he say unlucky.

His dark skin is warm to touch, and Perseus wants to say something to him that may comfort him. But he doubts he will know the language the boy speaks. So he simply nods his head at him, silently begging him to hurry up and just kill him.

Because he can't live like this anymore.

He can't.

He wants to live in a world without the gods, where he will no longer dream of the goddess of victory.

That's when he sees her.

Her dark hair and dark eyes, no longer looking at him.

Why won't she look at him?

Instead they are focused on the boy in front of him, the one who is now stumbling with heavy hands as he throws away the lumbering sword he once held and instead picks up a rock, slightly smaller than his own head. Before slamming it down towards the green eyes that still stare at the goddess behind him.

She still doesn't say anything.

**Hope you all enjoyed this, if you didn't understand it. Don't worry I really didn't either; I was watching a documentary on Rome when this hit me. **

**Please Review and tell me what you thought. **

Stories in the making for this series (No particular order).

Percy/Thanatos

Percy/Hyperion

Percy/Mnemosyne

Percy/Tartarus

Percy/Persephone

Percy/Calypso

Percy/Ares

Percy/Hermes

Percy/Hercules

Percy/Bellona

Percy/Hebe

Percy/Iris


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